


You, Me, We

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Apology dinners, F/M, Forgiveness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Psychological Trauma, Speculation, This show is going to hurt me isn't it, Worst date ever, post-season 3, unnecessary apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is nice,” Phil said quietly as he gestured around them, “really.” Daisy gave him a dismissive hum of agreement, then sighed.</p><p>“But you’re not happy about it,” she surmised, and he had to shrug.</p><p>“I don’t need to tell you that there’s nothing you need to apologize for. Again,” he said. “I know you’ll just disagree and insist there is and we won't get anywhere. Again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, Me, We

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this one is super different than other stuff I wrote. AKA not very funny/happy but hey blame the show. This is kind of the creepy moodier cousin to my first fic, so. Yeah. Look what this show did to me.

“We could have done something--” _Simpler. Quicker. Happier._ “Cheaper,” Phil said, eyeing the candles in the middle of the table. Twirling his fork through his pasta, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that it was a nice dinner, something he'd needed.

But he didn’t like the purpose.

“Like what, sitting on the floor with microwave burritos?” Daisy asked, joking, but not really. Phil frowned.

“I like the floor burritos.”

Daisy scoffed, bringing her wine glass to her lips before freezing. She put it back down.

“This is nice,” Phil said quietly as he gestured around them, “really.” Daisy gave him a dismissive hum of agreement, then sighed.

“But you’re not happy about it,” she surmised, and he had to shrug.

“I don’t need to tell you that there’s nothing you need to apologize for. Again,” he said. “I know you’ll just disagree and insist there is and we won't get anywhere. Again.”

That was probably unfair of him to say, but it wasn’t for his own benefit. He knew that cutting herself slack, especially after what she had been through, wasn’t going to come easy to Daisy. But he couldn’t watch her suffer quietly anymore, he had to let her ‘apologize.’ Daisy’s shoulders slumped, and she brought a hand up to her forehead.

“Coulson--”

 

_“Coulson,” Daisy said, recognizing him instantly. Of course they recognized him, they hadn’t been gone that long, but he looked so different. He looked relieved to see Daisy, that definitely wasn’t new. But it was so strange; he seemed...disappointed. And scared._

_Of them._

_But they weren’t worried about that, they couldn’t worry about that. There was so much happening, so much exciting news they had to tell him._

_But they couldn’t tell him._

_He couldn’t stay with them._

_“You shouldn’t have come here,” Daisy said almost forlornly, before remembering that they didn’t need to miss him. They had everything they needed already._

 

“Daisy?” Coulson asked cautiously, leaning forward. “ _Daisy_?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, sitting up straight, dragging her hand away from her face. She looked tired, out of it, and Phil wondered again if this was a bad idea. A surprising amount of work had gone into tonight, and she probably didn't need the extra stress. But another part of him, a selfish part, was happy to see her like this. Tired. _Herself_. Not the manic, falsely energized horror show he’d seen before.

“Was it another--”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said in a clipped voice, stabbing her fork into her pasta. Phil sent her a pained look, then moved his gaze to one of the candles between them. They were the tall old fashioned type, and one threatened to drip wax onto the tablecloth. Phil wondered briefly if he should try to stop it.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he said carefully, watching Daisy tense up as she took a bite, not looking at him. “But we can. I know what happened to me isn’t the same, but there are parts I can understand, at least a little bit.” There was no way his carving could compare to what happened to Daisy, the destruction she had been forced to cause, and he hated to even bring it up. But he was desperate to let her know that she wasn’t alone. He sighed, reaching his hand across the table to rest it lightly on hers. “Daisy, I--”

 

_“I know you’re probably not the biggest fan of me right now,” Coulson said, “those voices in your head are probably telling you that I’m the enemy, or to hate me, but Daisy I know you’re in there and you can hear me.” They could barely believe it._

_“Hate you?” Daisy asked, stepping closer. Almost imperceptibly Coulson leaned back, leaned away. He still had that look on his face, that strange, un-Coulson-like look. “Coulson,” they implored, reaching for his hand._

_He hesitated, but didn’t pull away, letting Daisy hold his hand between both of hers._

Oh Phil.

_“We could never hate you,” Daisy said passionately, pulling his hand closer, next to her heart. They could feel its vibrations, so different from regular human flesh, despite the uncanny resemblance._

_Coulson was usually good at masking his expression, they all knew that. But he had a harder time with Daisy. Along with the fear they’d been seeing, what was that now? Hope? Could he possibly begin to understand how happy they were, how right everything was going to be? They tugged his hand even closer, cradling it in front of her chest. “We love you,” they said, emphatic. “You’re the reason we’re here.”_

_Maybe it was hope they’d seen before, but it dropped away immediately, replaced with something like horror as Daisy flattened the palm of his almost human hand against her sternum._

 

“I don’t even know how you can look at me right now,” Daisy said lowly, and Coulson didn’t know whether to take it as a good or bad sign that she didn’t snatch her hand away from his. Again.

“Sure you do,” he said, trying to cover up the desperation with encouragement. “This...this is what we do.” Daisy looked up at him, curious despite herself.

Minding the quiet around them, Phil leaned in slightly, turning her hand carefully over in his. “We blame ourselves for things that are outside of our control, we dwell, we wonder how anyone could want anything to do with us,” he said, examining her palm thoughtfully as he spoke. It wasn’t scary at all, was it? It was soft, with callouses consistent with those of a marksman, and the ones created by her gauntlets of course. But even knowing the power under there, devastating power he’d seen hidden in those small hands, he wasn’t afraid.

“But then there’s this person there, one who just might actually understand. And even if they can’t really understand, we know that they’re not going to give up on trying. And we try not to get them involved, worried it will hurt them, but in the end they’re always going to be there next to us, giving us the benefit of the doubt. So we let them in.” He looked up briefly, noting the way her eyes were shining brighter with the light from the candles between them. He gave her privacy, moving his gaze to her other hand that she miraculously let him take. “Even if we fear it’s against their best interest.”

Daisy pursed her lips, curling her fingers until Phil let them drop away from his hands. They drummed against the table quietly.

“Why?” She asked, more a ragged breath than a word. She cleared her throat, looking up at him. “Why do we do that?”

 

_“You love me,” Daisy observed, watching Coulson’s face. It was strange, so much easier to notice it now, although they suspected it was nothing new._

_“Yes,” he said simply, and they eyed the gun at his waist. It wasn’t an icer, and it hadn’t moved from its holster._

_“You’re not going to hurt us,” Daisy said, and they could see him struggle with that._

_“I’m not going to hurt_ you _,” Coulson answered, leaving no question as to what he meant. Daisy shook her head. He still didn’t get it._

_They wondered why that felt so distressing, all of a sudden. Like a pit in their stomach. That was unusual. They brushed it off. Everything was going to work as planned._

_“There is no me anymore,” Daisy said, watching as his hands balled into fists. He didn’t like that, did he? His emotions were so easily triggered, if only he were worthy of understanding, of being one of them._

_But then he seemed to relax. His shoulders dropped and he looked them in the eye with a confidence they hadn’t seen from him._

_“I know that’s not true,” he said, as if it was that simple. As if he could just deny the evidence standing right in front of him._

_It angered them._

_“It is,” Daisy insisted, hearing an uncharacteristic frustration in her voice. Why were they so angry? They were never angry._

_“No it’s not,” Coulson said, so calmly._

_That foreign feeling of distress was threatening to come up again. Daisy’s hands began to thrum with power. They were going to hurt him. Couldn’t he see that they were going to hurt them? Why wouldn’t he just go away?_

_“We’re going to hurt you,” Daisy said quietly, missing the euphoria they had been feeling for days. Not understanding where it had gone. They were so_ angry _all of a sudden it almost made it difficult to breathe._

_Coulson stepped closer, putting his hands on Daisy’s shoulders. What was he thinking? Staring them down like that? They were going to hurt him._

_“Maybe,” he said, and Daisy wanted to shake him. Grab_ him _by the shoulders and shake him until he came to his senses and left them alone. But that wasn’t how it worked. Those petty, unnecessary emotions weren’t part of the equation. They were above that. They were_ supposed to be _above that, so why was this feeling threatening to spill over? Their head hurt. It was practically blinding. Why was this happening to them?_

_They began to understand._

_The anger wasn’t theirs._

_Daisy grabbed Phil's elbows, startling him, but he didn’t release his grip. He looked at her with that scared, hopeful, determined face. “Daisy, listen. You're right, they might hurt me, but--”_

_“I won’t.”_

 

A sudden draft blew the candles out, cloaking the room in darkness. “Shit,” Coulson muttered, standing up and carefully feeling around the wall for the light switch. He found it and flipped it on, squinting at the brightness. As far as safehouses went it wasn’t the best one, but it was far from the worst he’d stayed in.

“I’ll get that,” Daisy said quietly, heading over to the window that had blown open. She latched it shut before walking back to the table and gathering up their dishes.

“Let me,” Coulson said, and Daisy let him grab his but didn’t stop doing her own part. “You cooked,” he protested, but she kept at it.  She had made a point to make something complicated, with multiple pots and pans even. And although their grocery budget would be feeling the absence the next few days, he wasn't going to deny her. At least the candles and table settings, old as they were, were readily available for 'ambiance.' “You _r_ _eally_ cooked, I didn’t know that was something you enjoyed.”

“It's not,” Daisy said simply, and they carried their dishes over to the kitchen area.

“Well, I don’t like the idea of you doing something you don’t enjoy to apologize to me,” Coulson said, almost annoyed. “Any more than the idea of you apologizing to me in general.”

Daisy sighed, putting the dishes in the sink and reaching out to take his as well. He let her. “Fine then, it’s not an apology,” she said quickly, as if hoping he wouldn’t notice. Coulson waited, not wanting to spook her. “How about thanking you?” She turned to face him, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the sink. She made a funny face. “Wow, you don’t like that either, huh?”

Coulson let out a quiet chuckle, trying to physically wipe off the blatant frown that must have made an appearance. He leaned against the counter next to her, shoulder to shoulder.

“How about, ‘we survived one week in hiding, let’s celebrate?’” He asked, and Daisy elbowed him lightly in the side. Phil shrugged. Maybe it was a little morbid, all things considered. After all, the underlying sentiment was that it was still only week one, and who knew how much longer it would be?

“How about a thank you--hold on,” she said, somehow hearing his protest before he made it. “For each other. Both of us. For...” she shrugged, waving her hands in front of her lightly as she searched for the right words. “For-for just being here.” Coulson looked over at her, so close that he could just see her profile as a tiny smile formed on her face. “For being here, even if it’s putting us in danger, even if it’s against our best interests.”

Phil smiled, knowing that while technically it _was_ in their best interest to stick together on this, Daisy wasn’t strictly talking about them being on the run. They were _here_ , in each other’s lives, the same way they always ended up. It was what they did.

“I can work with that,” Phil said, nudging Daisy’s arm with his.

“Finally,” she said, sighing. Feeling her hair brush his neck, Coulson looked down to see Daisy about to rest her head against his shoulder. At the last second though she changed her mind, pulling away from his side. He didn’t dare feel disappointment at that, he knew that getting comfortable with people again would take time for Daisy. But she seemed to have something different in mind, moving away from his side but stepping into his space again. This time directly in front of him.

“Daisy?” He looked at her questioningly, determinedly sticking to curiosity--not concern-- as she brought her hands to either side of his face. She cupped his cheeks in her hands lightly, as if he were made of glass.

Daisy looked Coulson square in the eye, reminding him of how happy he was so see those eyes again. So happy he could--

“I want to kiss you right now.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You--?” Daisy nodded. It wasn’t that being direct was unusual for her, but Phil would admit to being a little caught off guard.

“I want to.”

It clicked for him, shamefully taking longer than it should have. “I would like for you to do that,” he said clumsily, and Daisy’s quiet smile returned. She leaned in, pressing her lips softly against his, maybe giving a few moments to let him back out if he so chose before she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Phil pulled her close against him, backing the two of them into the sink, running his hands up and down her sides like he couldn’t decide what to do with them. He _couldn’t_ decide what to do with them, so he settled for placing them on her hips firmly.  

Through the haze of _Daisy is kissing me_ , Phil worried he might be crowding her, so he pulled back. “Is this--we’re good?” He asked, embarrassed at how out of breath he suddenly was before he realized she was in a similar state. Her eyes had a spark once again, the one he’d missed when it was hidden beneath the glazed over high of Hive’s influence on her. He'd missed her so much. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, running her hands down his shoulders to his chest. “We’re good.”


End file.
